


Intro to Chem

by Enchantable



Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Not Quite A Romance, Potions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 12:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “Screw those assholes,” he snaps, getting up from the stool, “it’s not gone. Not by a long shot,” she looks at him, “you just have to try again. What herbs do you need?”“Randall,” she says.“No, tell me,” he says, “Listen you may not know but I am a great lab partner,” he says, “I measure perfectly,” risking further bodily harm, he touches the back of her hand, “let me help, Lil.”





	Intro to Chem

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: LILITH AND RANDALL AFTER SHE GETS HER MEMORIES BACK THE FIRST TIME

“Lil?”

“Go away!”

Randall frowns at the door. He’s an RA and he’s used to people telling him to go away, but it’s usually guys and half the time it’s because they’re jerking off. Lilith has been violently opposed to people taking care of her since the day they met. The last time she had a cold and he brought her tea is something they do not talk about. Like that’s not a normal thing to do for someone whose sick. They both know he hasn’t moved from the door and she practically rips it off its hinges when she opens it. She’s breathing hard even though it’s been at least five minutes since something went flying out the window. He knows he’s not supposed to mention the wetness on her cheeks. She challenges him for a moment before turning back inside.

“I’m alive. You can go,” she snaps. 

Randall takes in the sight of the damage. Order members die violently and often. And kids don’t usually bring furniture to their dorms anyway. Her having been in the Order though, it does explain why she picked what she did. How her room swings between the spartan bareness of necessity and the tendencies of a hoarder. When Hamish had jokingly asked if everything fit in her backpack and she had told him to fuck off, Randall hadn’t known how to look past the anger. She hadn’t said no. Lilith keeps her back to him and looks out the window. He knows better now than to have come up here with a set plan of how things were going to go. Lilith isn’t one for the beaten path. She hasn’t been for as long as he’s known her. She snorts out a bitter laugh and turns back around to him. She’s also not a coward.

“Ask it,” she says.

“Are you okay?”

“You are such an idiot!” She shouts at him, “of course I’m not okay! That’s not what I meant! Ask me about the Order!”

He frowns. He may have been an idiot about the whole ‘are you okay’ thing but she can’t honestly think that it matters to him. She does though, he can see that from the look on her face. She turns away before she rubs at her cheeks and swears. She doesn’t even try to throw things. Under all the defensiveness, he knows she’s one of the strongest people he’s ever met. Seeing something affect her so much makes his insides twist with a strange urge to destroy whatever that is. But the rest of him refuses to be thrown out of her room like this.

“I don’t care that you were in the Order,” he says. She scoffs, “you never talk about home. I figured it wasn’t a good situation. But that’s always been a part of who you are.”

“Not a good situation and the fucking Order are different,” she snaps.

“Not to me,” he says. She rolls her eyes and mutters something that sounds like ‘idiot’, “Seriously. I knew Jack was in the Order and it didn’t stop me from helping him. And he’s still in it!”

“You’re both idiots,” she tells him though it comes out slightly less furious.

“Yeah, but we’re idiots on your side,” he says.

She looks away and then looks back at him. Then she swats him on the arm again.

“Hey! I’m injured remember?!”

“Stop smiling at me!” She says, “every time I look at you you’re always smiling.” 

“Because I like hanging out with you. Is that so hard to believe?” He can feel his face getting hotter by the second. He hates seeing her in pain but dear god this is not a conversation he’s ready to have, “I don’t even know I’m doing it.”

“How do you not know?” She demands rolling her eyes.

“Are you aware of every time you touch me?” He shoots back.

Her cheeks go bright red and he feels his stomach go somewhere around his ankles. He’s aware of it, he just doesn’t make it into a thing. Apparently so is she. They have an unspoken agreement to never talk about this. She definitely finds it to be a cliche. Just because they are a boy and a girl who get naked around each other and might have a certain level of attraction does not mean anything has to happen.

“That’s not the point,” she says, “this is stupid. i was in the Order!” She makes a noise, “i messed that up.”

“But you’re a great Knight!” He protests, “maybe you messed it up because this is where you belong. Like Jack,” she curls her lip, “Don’t you guys believe in fate? Destiny?”

“Do you?” She challenges.

“I think you both belong here,” he says without a moment of doubt, “I know you think I’m an idiot. That doesn’t change how I feel. Just accept it.”

Lilith is quiet for a moment and then takes a calculated step forward. Then another. Then she fists his sweatshirt and pulls him down to her level.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You know i’m right,” he says.

“I know you’re an idiot,” she shoots back and shoves him. The pain is surprisingly bright and wet. When she yanks him back he hisses and she pulls the neck of his shirt aside. “You’re bleeding,” she says.

“Probably the magic from the sigil,” he says, dislodging her hand so he can pull off his sweatshirt. He looks at her. “I can patch this up.”

She grabs his wrist and pulls him into the kitchen. He forfeits a dishtowel to staunch the bleeding as she grabs things. Fortunately the freshest herbs make the best cocktails and she gets to work. He wants to tell her that she doesn’t need to do it, but he’s kind of fascinated watching her work. She spends the least amount of time in the kitchen. And always comes up with an excuse for getting out of it. Now he watches her work from memory, grinding and chopping things before adding them to a pot.

“Hey, so, do you think this is why you hate cooking?” He asks. She stops and braces her hands, “those initiates who got the powder always hate where it happened for one reason or another.”

“It’s the mind protecting itself,” she says, “rewriting things,” her jaw tightens, “I loved making potions,” she says, “chemistry was my favorite subject.”

“You’re an english major,” he say slowly.

Her fist clenches and he slides the nearest piece of pottery for her to throw before she cracks the island.

“I didn’t come here to study english! Business and chemistry. I was going to help people!” She smacks her hands down, “one mistake and it’s all gone,” she turns to the pot and curses, shutting off the flame, “shit. I have to—“ she shakes her head, “I did something wrong.”

“Screw those assholes,” he snaps, getting up from the stool, “it’s not gone. Not by a long shot,” she looks at him, “you just have to try again. What herbs do you need?”

“Randall,” she says.

“No, tell me,” he says, “Listen you may not know but I am a great lab partner,” he says, “I measure perfectly,” risking further bodily harm, he touches the back of her hand, “let me help, Lil.”

She looks at him finally and shakes her head.

“You’re hurt,” his stomach twists in disappointment, “Next time,” she says and he might feel better. Just a bit. She gathers everything and redoes it. He watches her work. Lilith isn’t someone who does things effortlessly. There’s care in her work. He watches her as she moves about. It’s rare that he gets to more than out of the corner of his eye. He realizes thats creepy, even as a thought and looks away, returning to looking out of the corner of his eye. She tips some into a mug and comes back over, “you ready?”

“Born ready,” he says.

“Lean over the sink.”

He does, trying to get as low as possible. She meets his gaze and he smiles encouragingly. She rolls her eyes and tips the contents over his shoulder. He braces for pain but instead it bubbles like peroxide, the skin goes pleasantly cool. Lilith peers over his shoulder. This close, the crown of her head is practically in his nose. When she looks up, she’s so close. His smile falters because it’s really hard to be in this position, but the fact that she’s on his shoulder instead of Hamish makes it not that bad. Not that bad and very hard in a very different area.

“It worked,” she says.

“Good job,” he tries for encouraging but his voice is a lot more strangled than he wishes it was, “wanna be lab partners?”

“What?” That gets her to jump back.

“Yeah,” he says, “if you were thinking about it.”

She’s honest to god flustered and fuck if he doesn’t find it hot. She collects herself.

“Lets survive this first. Talk about that later.”

* * *

 

Later, before they get her back, when he doesn’t know if they will, Hamish finds him sitting outside her door. Randall thinks Hamish is being ridiculous when he calls himself an old man, but he gets it when Hamish lowers himself next to him and doesn’t tell him everything’s fine.

“I think—“ he doesn’t have the right words for this. “What if she doesn’t come back?”

“You can’t think like that,” Hamish says.

“But what if she doesn’t?” He presses, something splitting in his chest. He never told her and he thought that was right. Protecting them somehow. But now all he can feel is the howl Greybeard wants to let out, “if she dies—“

“You will go on,” Hamish says firmly, “it’s the only choice.”

“Does it ever stop?” He asks finally.

“No,” Hamish says, “but you learn to carry it, the same way you learned to carry the hide.”

Randall doesn’t think he will ever learn to feel the ache in his chest as anything but a black hole. He doesn’t know how Hamish had carried it for eight years. The thought of her hide coming back, of someone else scratching their name into the chest makes him feel physically sick. Hamish gives him a tired, sad smile and clasps his shoulder.

“It will be okay,” he says.

“I don’t want it to be okay,” Randall confesses, looking at him.

“I know,” the older wolf says, “I know.”

* * *

 

Much much later, a girl with the sourest, most guarded expression he’s ever seen drops across from him at peer tutoring.

“Are you Lilith Bathroy?” He asks.

“No i’m the other Lilith,” she says sarcastically.

He grins. He swears she almost smiles back but Randall isn’t the guy who tells girls to smile. Even though he bets hers is great.

“There’s like five Randalls here,” he explains, “there might be another Lilith.”

“Just me,” she says pulling out a notebook.

“Okay,” he smiles, “so what’s tripping you up?”

She looks like she’s not sure if she can trust him. He finds he’d really like her to. Her eyes drag from his face to the scar that peaks out of his collar and back to his face. He’s had it for as long as he can remember. He’s not self conscious about it. He never tries to hide it.

“It gives me a headache,” she says finally.

“Like a mental block?” He says and her brows knit together. She nods, “no worries. We can get through it. Show me where you’re at.”

She turns the textbook so he can see and together they bend over it as he does his best not to be distracted by the smell of her shampoo.

Randall’s definitely not that guy.

 

 


End file.
